


Not your crime

by Okumen



Category: Itsuwaribito Utsuho
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, POV Second Person, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 00:17:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2129865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okumen/pseuds/Okumen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a crime that he had not commited, but that he was still punished for. It was a crime his father committed, and for that, he had to suffer as well. It was all a curse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not your crime

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Memories Event](http://havenooc.dreamwidth.org/273720.html) at [havenrpg](http://havenrpg.dreamwidth.org/profile), running from 8th to 14th July, 2013. A few lines are taken from the manga, but most is headcanon. Originally posted on dreamwidth.

Your Father had been gone since the evening before yesterday, but it wasn't like you cared. Your father ran off all the time to places you didn't know about. At least you could relax with the scrolls of tales when your father was away, and you had always preferred being alone either way. Besides, nothing good came with your father being home. You had resented him since a long time because of his violent tendencies, and then your father had beaten your mother so badly that she died. That was a year ago, and no one had seemed to care back then, that father had killed mother. As if it was his right as her husband.

You had been reading when they came. Slamming the door open so violently that it fell to the ground, four men entered the small house. ”Is something wrong?” was on the tip of your tongue, when you were unexpectedly hurled backwards against the wall. You clutched your torso, gasping for breath and feeling like a hole had been punched right through your chest. ”You little bastard, you're useless filth, just like your father.” The man snarling the words was a person that you had actually gotten along well with, and you didn't understand. That man was a friend of your fathers, just what was going on? Your confusion must have been reflected in your eyes then, because the man continued. ”A murderer's child will become a murderer as well.” And another man added, ”He murdered my daughter. He violated her and murdered her! And it's people like you who become people like that! You're no better!”

Your eyes widened, and you were suddenly filled with fear. These men was looking at you as if you were to blame for everything. As if it were you who had done what your father was responsible for. ”....no...” You pulled back, arms tightly wrapped around yourself. ”That was something he did on his own...”  
You were grabbed roughly by the hair, and you cried out in pain when you were lifted so high that your toes barely touched the ground. ”So you knew about it!” your father's friend roared.  
”No..!” you cried, almost in a panic, but your word went unheard. ”You knew and didn't do anything!”  
Your throat was tight with tears close to falling, and your heart was racing so fast it felt as if it were going to explode in your chest. ”No! I didn't know!”  
”Don't lie!!” another of the men shouted, and you hit the wall again, harder, and for a moment, everything went dark.

The next second, you found yourself being dragged out of your house by the hair, too fast for you to be able to keep up properly, and it felt as if your hair was about to be pulled out with the roots. Any word you tried to press out in protest was silenced, and it didn't matter what you tried to say because the only answer you got was fists in the face, kicks in the stomach, and, twice, your face was shoved into the sharp gravel. You hissed at the pain, and couldn't stop shivering when you felt blood trickle down your face. The gazes of people you had known all your life, people you trusted, looked at you as if you were the worst person in the world, with looks of disgust, hate and resentment. And it hurt, even more than the physical pain.

You dug your feet into the ground, but you were not strong enough, and you were thrown into to a room built of stone, a small room that you didn't know. It smelled of mold, so badly that you felt sick. When you were grabbed by the arms by two of the men, they grabbed hard enough to make it feel as if your arms was about to be twisted out of their sockets. One of the men grabbed your bangs, both to hold you still and to get your hair out of your face, and the other stepped hard on one of your kicking legs. ”Be still, you fucking killing brat.”  
Your father's friend brought out a long, sharp metal tool, and you grew paler than you probably had ever been. It felt as if you were going to both throw up and faint. You protested, pleaded, trying to rip yourself out of their grip but to no avail. ”I'm not involved! That's something that man did on his own! So why...!?”  
”The parents sin is the childs sin. You will also repent.” your father's friend said. His face looked as if it was carved in stone, but his eyes burned with dark hatred.  
”I don't want to! Stop!” Tears ran like rivers down your cheeks as the sharp metal was pressed into your face, buried in it and left marks that could never be erased. _Why?_ The thought passed through your mind, maybe you even screamed it, right before your mind went blank with pain.

You woke up on the floor, the room stank of filth and blood, and your face was burning, was caked with blood and stiff with salty tears. When you got a violent coughing fit, you spat up blood, but you had no strength to wipe it off of your face, had no strength to move. The only thing you could do was to attempt to get air in your lungs as you broke down to tears that shook your entire body. Why did you have to suffer for something _he_ did? You curled around yourself, wishing for your father to just die, hating him for what he had done, now and in the past.


End file.
